Homecoming
by Rieka De-Volka
Summary: Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration. Yes, Ginny reflected, Ron had always said she was a silly girl, but Ron was dead now, and it didn’t matter anymore.


_(A/N) A short drabble I made, not because I like this pairing so much, but because I was struck with the idea and found it irresistible. I like Ginny/Draco better, but… who knows, maybe I shouldn't have read the Chamber of Secrets again. Also, I'm going through depression and I felt the need to do something strange. The quote is Charles Dickens'._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and related trademarks, I do own any remains of a plot you may find here, though._

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**Homecoming.**

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_"Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration."_

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She figures Ron's right, and she really is a silly girl. She must be, after all that has happened.

When He took over her, she had been afraid, too young to understand what was going on, and what she felt then, when Harry had come and saved her, had been relief that He had been torn away from her, because there were no more conflicting emotions anymore.

But He had left a hole in her soul, where His presence had been, apparently since forever. It had never been warm, but it was cool, like a breeze against the heat of summer. Refreshing, comforting. Sometimes His touch was so tender, even when she was being childish and stupid. Always so awfully stupid.

She had said and done many stupid things afterwards. Gone out with Harry, broken up with him twice, because of his stupid obsession with Cho, made up, broke up again because of Ron and his stupid jealousy attacks. The last time they made up he was in his seventh year, and she hadn't allowed him to touch her. He thought it was another unspoken wizard rule, one that he was not likely to discuss with Hermione or Ron, so she let him believe it. Her own seventh year had been filled with long letters about the harsh training he was undergoing to fulfill his destiny, of how much he missed her and a thousand and more little fantasies and promises not meant to become reality.

When she graduated, he proposed, and she, ever the silly girl, said yes.

Because she was a Wesley, and he was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived… a young man who was still finding it difficult to believe he would ever stop the nightmare he lived through, but who was determined to go through it. And she was just Ginny, a silly redhead who was once possessed and who always, always was a fan of his. And she figured it was the right thing to do, for both, because maybe, Harry would fill that void, that terrifying void of nothingness within her that seemed to make her want to cry every once in a while.

The morning of her wedding, as all the guests arrived and prepared for the ceremony, which was taking place at noon, she sat in her room, already dressed in the beautiful white robes her mother had made by hand for her, adorned with that simple beauty that came out of fairy tales. She sat there, combing through her still not done hair, pensive. It was so long now, it reached her waist, red, bright and smooth. She liked her hair. It was the one thing that made her special, in a way, the way it was so pretty that others turned to look, either in admiration or envy, it gave her a small pleasure to know people saw. Harry liked her hair short though, he had hinted it a few times, but she had ignored it, because she liked it long.

In a deep, murky corner of her mind, she remembered _He_ had liked it long too.

Then, there was screaming and rage and fire. And she was jolted away by a powerful tug from within. And she knew, _knew_ He was there, and that He came for her. Heart leaping, she walked out slowly, with a strange peacefulness falling over her, and her steps were slow, timed, as she slid to the main patio, where a battle was taking place, the guests, all allies of the Order and the Light, fighting fiercely against Him and his Death Eaters.

And in the very far end, Harry and Him, circling each other, calculating, testing, preparing. She saw Him move, slick as a viper, fierce but cool, controlled, and her knees grew weak.

Harry looked like a lamb brought to slaughter there, and she started walking towards them, not aware she was moving, or that the Death Eaters seemed to be wining, injuring and killing the resistance with a frightening ease. No, she was entranced by the sheer power of the battle of fates that was taking place in what had been once an altar. In the same spot her soul had been about to be bound to Harry's, Destiny was taking place.

Her feet took her to them, until she was standing less than two meters away from them, her eyes fixed undoubtedly on Him, everything else blank, unimportant. She smiled.

"Tom."

He stopped for an instant, Harry's wand and his own in his hands, raised and ready to give the final blow. His eyes were no longer that rich brown color that had filled her dreams with quiet promises so long ago, they were red and bright and bold and powerful, and his face was ghostly pale, slick as he was, truly a serpent in the purest form of it. And his lips twisted in a strange smile, one of recognition, of triumph.

Yes, Ginny reflected, Ron had always said she was a silly girl, but Ron was dead now, and it didn't matter anymore. Nothing did. Not the shocked gasps of Death Eaters and guests alike as Tom pulled her close and kissed her, as she kissed back. Not Harry's hurt, betrayed look. Nothing mattered.

"Let's go."

Because Ginny was just a silly girl with a school crush on Harry Potter, but she was finally going home.

_(A/N) Comments? Flames? Threats? Review!_


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